


I'm Fine

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Day 3, Gen, Held at Gunpoint, My way or the highway, Non-consensual themes, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2020, forced to their knees, manhandled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Sam is attacked in his motel room while on a solo hunt, and he has to do something he'll live to regret.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947223
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> **Whumptober 2020**
> 
> **No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY**
> 
> **Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint**

Sam was fucked. Plain and simple. Fucked. Demons had broken into his motel room, and he’d tried to fight, but there were three of them. Without even using their powers, they held him still.

“What—What do you want?” he cried, trying to sound demanding, which was hard when his head was getting yanked back by his hair.

He shivered, remembering. Hands on him, hands on him… Ruby’s hands. Lucifer’s hands. And he clamped his mouth shut till his teeth and jaw hurt, remembering those hunters who’d made him drink demon blood. They’d held him, forced his mouth open. The siren — Dean forcing his mouth open, being accosted by that monster that controlled his brother. It all came back in an ugly, sickening rush, leaving him too hot, and close to throwing up.

“Just to have a little fun,” the demon to his left said, too-warm breath wafting over his cheek. Sam struggled, grunting, and he tried to flinch away.

His face was scrunched up in disgust, and the demons laughed at his struggles.

He couldn’t breathe. Oh god, he couldn’t breathe.

His hands and feet were tingly. Why was his vision tunneling?

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

_Fun_ for demons could mean anything. Torture, rape, death. Sam was really starting to just wish for the first option, not liking they way they closed in, their hips pressing against him.

Sam fought, but they threw him about, shoving, pushing, and then a knife was taken out, slashing Sam behind his knees. He fell as he screamed through gritted teeth.

Before he could even attempt to get up, to fight, a gun was against his head, the metal cold.

“Don’t try anything.”

Sam spat, and the pistol was used to strike him across his left cheekbone. Sam fell down onto his arms. And he tried getting up, but a boot on his back kept him down. The gun was still at his head, the demon with it kneeling before him.

“Lucifer had all his fun with you downstairs, so we thought,” — he laughed — “well, we thought we should have a turn. You can handle all three of us, can’t you? You’re a big man.”

The demon licked his lips as he eyed him.

Sam’s mouth started making too much saliva, stomach churning. His skin tingled, he shivered, hot and cold at once. All he knew was the sick feeling inside of him, and the gun against his head.

Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he calmed his stomach. He did it by telling himself he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in this situation. Of course he wasn’t. It wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. Why would it?

Or was Sam just that easy of a target?

What was wrong with him that made these evil beings so enticed with him? What did he do to draw them in? Why _him_? Was it his stupid body? His snark? The way he killed scores of them?

This could be a power move, revenge, just plain attraction, or a mix of all three.

God, why hadn’t he asked Dean to join him on this hunt?

Sam started to think. If they wanted him, they surely wouldn’t kill him. Sure, he’d known demons to fuck corpses, but they seemed like they wanted to see him move, wanted to hear him. The gun was just an act.

Sam shoved the one closest to him aside, the gun still dangerously close to his head, and he rose, able to only stand up halfway for now. But that was enough to lunge at the demon, getting them to the floor, Sam on top of him.

He punched and punched, each blow bloodying his knuckles, but feeling so damn good. He was dragged off of him, strangled, bent backwards till his back was protesting. And then he was bent past that point.

Sam let out a choked scream.

But he grabbed the arm wrapped around him the most, and twisted, using the weight to get them off balance and nearly around to the front of him. Sam rammed an elbow into his gut, but then his feet were grabbed by the other demons, lifted up.

They held him, and Sam growled and snarled.

The demons chuckled.

“Always knew you were a feisty one, but this is just too fun.”

Sam blushed as a whimper left him.

“Now, let’s have some fun.”

Sam closed his eyes, knowing what he had to do, regretting it with everything in him.

He twisted his head and bit down on an arm, hard. Blood filled his mouth. Sam groaned at the delicious taste of it. Demon blood was different than human blood to him. It was sweet, and hot, reminding him of the feel of drinking coffee on a cold day. The heat rushed down into him, filling his stomach as he swallowed and drank. The demon screamed.

Sam was dropped, hitting the floor hard, groaning.

They kicked him, and he held up an arm around his head, doing his best to protect it. With his other he reached his hand out towards his bed, towards the knife.

Had he had enough blood? Could he do it?

His body weakened. Not just from the beating. His vision blurred, and there was something hot dripping out of his nose.

The knife came flying into his hand, and Sam stabbed at the foot that was about to aim a kick at his head.

The tussle became ugly, Sam wrestling with all three demons. They had the upper hand most of the time, but finally, he killed one of them.

_Two to go,_ he told himself.

They seemed afraid now, realizing their plan had been plain stupid.

One of them was about to smoke out, and Sam chanted an exorcism backwards, barely having any space between the words. The smoke rushed back into the body, and Sam lunged forward, knifing him in the gut. And then he stabbed him through the chest, blade scraping ribs as it reached for the heart.

The other demon was running now, as Sam pulled the demon-killing knife free.

The body that had just sparked out in dying, orange light collapsed to the ground.

Sam held the edge of the slippery blade, and he arched his arm back, aimed, and threw. The knife arced through the air, spinning, and spinning. And it took the demon between the shoulder blades.

He sparked out, dead.

Sam was breathing heavy, bloody, bruised, hurting. But they hadn’t had him. They hadn’t done _that_ to him. That thing, that awful thing that haunted him every day.

Amidst all the gore in the room, the dead bodies, the heat from the fight, Sam’s phone started to ring on the bedside table.

Breathing in the thick scent of blood, he barely heard it. His world had narrowed down to fear, and death, but power, and blood. His heart beat furiously, and he felt it throughout his body. It rushed in his ears. It was nearly hard to breathe from how powerfully it beat through his neck.

The phone stopped ringing.

Sam sighed, hanging his head.

To the bathroom, time to wash up.

_De-de-de de-de-de de-de! De! De-de-de-de-de de-de-de-de! De! De-de-de…!_

Sam groaned, but went to grab his phone.

_DEAN Calling_ , the screen told him.

Sam groaned again, _feeling_ the demon blood in him. Not wanting to talk. But he picked up anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, how you doin’?” Dean sounded cheerful. And why wouldn’t he be? He was in the bunker with Cas.

Sam sat down on his bed, looked at the blood on him, felt the throb of his injuries, and eyed the dead bodies strewn across his motel room that were bent at wrong angles.

“Fine. I’m fine.”


End file.
